


Strength of Ten

by Glinda



Series: In The Cards [3]
Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Backstory, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-06
Updated: 2009-10-06
Packaged: 2017-10-09 01:55:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glinda/pseuds/Glinda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His strength is the strength of ten, for his heart is pure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strength of Ten

**Author's Note:**

> I found this in a notebook from when I was away. Some of Lancelot's backstory may not be entirely correct due to it having been written on a train somewhere in Central Europe and my not having seen the relevant episodes in a quite a while.

Ever since Lancelot first hefted an axe to help defend his village from bandits, weapons have felt right in his hands. The physical exertion and pleasure of a good clean fight have little to beat them in his young life and he takes every opportunity to learn from passing knights and faded soldiers.

As he grows older the other boys his age grow fonder of a fight. Too much drink, competition over a pretty girl, their mother's honour, a myriad of excuses come to mind. They fight dirty and only to win. Lancelot learns much that will serve him well in battles to come, but for now he longs for honour and duty; for a cause to lend his sword to. The other boys mock his idealism but his dreams are filled with Camelot.

In his years of exile from Camelot, Lancelot finds a dozen causes to lend his sword. He fights as well and as true as he knows how, but always aware of something missing. Until the first time that he raises his sword in true service of Camelot, when it is as though his strength were multiplied ten-fold. To protect Camelot; to help its young king lead it back to the right path, of being the golden kingdom and refuge he dreamt of as a child; that is a cause he can put his heart into.

He feels it sometimes on the field of battle, when facing a previously-mythical beast, or when returning home injured. A surge of strength when needed; the warmth of care when he would otherwise have given up. This is old magic, Merlin tells him, from the bones of the land, rising up to strengthen it's chosen champions, binding them together. Lancelot has no reason to doubt him. He feels it in the steady sure swing of his own sword; in the way he always knows where Arthur is during battle, as surely as if his back were to Lancelot's; the way Merlin glows with the magic he channels, swinging his staff defending them from dangers they cannot see. The way he feels Gwen's smile at their safe return across miles, the touch of her hand where she bound wounds or repaired chain-mail, lingering long hours after their warmth could possibly remain. The way he feels Morgana's absence like the loss of a limb. He is bound to this place; to these people, their cares are his as surely as their battles. It is a fierce love that flows through his veins and he feels it flowing through the bones of the castle too. Slowly but surely it is flowing out through the town and the woods and the fields. Magic is returning to Camelot and there is no place that Lancelot would rather be.


End file.
